


Sacrifices 3

by evieplease



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Photographer's Assistant, Physical Abuse, Red Carpet, Verbal Abuse, abusive boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-12 22:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5682541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa meets Tom on the Red Carpet, mayhem ensues</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifices 3

We had been lying tangled in each other, drifting. Recovering our breath, our equilibrium, floating back into the real world after that crashing climax together. Tom stirred and sighed, his hand idly plucking and twining in my hair.

"I have a thing..." he started and paused. "Melissa... I have to go do this panel thing, this morning."

My head is lying on his chest, and I felt the muscles there tighten. As if expecting a blow? I sighed. Here we go, back into the real world, back, each of us, to our real lives...

I heard, I felt his heartbeat pick up it's pace as his chest rose under my head on a deep breath.

"Melissa..." He paused. Is Tom struggling for words??

"Will you spend the rest of the day with me?" He almost blurted, as if he were truly afraid that I might say no.

My breath caught. Did he just...? The last words I expected. My head popped off his chest in astonishment, my mouth falling open, eyes blinking at him. Holy cow.

The first words to come to mind: 'Surely you have better things to do...?' never made it to my mouth as I caught sight of his expression. He's staring at the ceiling. Waiting patiently for my answer. Looking...vulnerable. Hopeful and defeated at the same time. It dawns on me slowly; Tom is lonely.

This man...

"Oh, Tom," my brow furrowed, "of course I'll spend the day with you. You're good fun, Grandad!" I laid my hand on his cheek. A breath huffed out of him on a small laugh, and he turned his eyes to me, searching my face. 

"I do have an important date with a small mountain of dirty laundry... I'll probably still be folding socks when you get back!"

Tom pursed his lips and looked thoughtful, quirking an eyebrow up. "What time do I need to arrive to watch you folding knickers?" he asked seriously.

I snorted. Not exactly a delicate, lady-like snort either. Warthogs come to mind...

"You are a wicked man, Mr. Hiddleston."

I tugged his face down and brushed a kiss across his lips. Tom firmed the kiss for a long, swelling moment, breaking the kiss to brush a kiss my on forehead.

Ooof. There is such...tenderness in a simple kiss to the forehead, it takes my breath away. I wrapped my whole self around him and laid my head on his chest, stroking his shoulder, just letting this moment lie still and be. No past. No future. Just this moment. His hand strokes over my hair.

A tear slips out, down my cheek, to land on Tom's chest. His hand flutters up to my face, thumb tracing the path of wet on my cheek and pulling my chin up to look into my face. I'm surprised to see a certain moistness around his eyes as well. After a moment, I huffed a small laugh.

"Oh, I see how you are now...team crier aren't you, Grandad?"

"Shhh!" He grinned. "Don't tell anyone!"

***

I spent the morning doing my laundry while Tom did his dancing bear act for the press. At least I got something tangible done, though I'm sure Tom worked harder. He certainly looked more tired when he arrived, but the smile that bloomed on his face when I opened my door to him took my breath away.

I gave him the two penny tour, pointing, "Lounge, kitchen, bath, bedroom. Ta-dah! My palatial estate." I did 'jazz hands' at him.

He chuckled. "At least you can't get lost on the way to the loo in the night!"

Snorting, I crossed into the kitchen and filled the kettle for tea, rinsing the teapot with hot water, hands going through the soothing motions.

I can't believe I've let him into my space. He's been in my body. God, yes. But now he's here, in my tiny little flat, dwarfing it. And he's moving into my head. I can't believe that he's moving into my head, my heart, so quickly. I can't believe that I'm letting him. But. But, fuck I don't want him to leave... Oh, hell. 

Tom leaves tomorrow, but the charming bastard has persuaded me to spend today with him. He'd had a press panel to do this morning but was otherwise free. His powers of persuasion, hmm. Who am I kidding?? All he had to do was ask. He must have owned the universe when he was six...

"So what would you like to do with our afternoon off, Mr. Hiddleston?" I smiled, offering him (fuck!) my world.

He wandered across the room and stood by a chair at the table, gesturing, "May I?" waiting politely for me to invite him to sit. 

"Really?" I said with a grin. "After everthing you got up to in the last 18 hours, I hardly think we need stand on ceremony, Grandad!" I jerked my chin at the chair. "Sit."

He growled and grinned at me playfully, as he sat in a sprawl. I put a plate of biscuits in front of him and smirked. 

"Hey," I shrugged, "you said I could call you Grandad any time I liked. I intend to take full advantage of it!" I lifted an eyebrow at him. "See what happens when you talk in a post-orgasmic haze?" I went for a saucy grin, shaking my head at him. "Tsk."

"Wench." he scowled at me playfully, and changed the subject "About our plans for the afternoon? You could show me your favorite place...?"

I reached down a couple of mugs, glancing over my shoulder at him with a puzzled look. "You want to visit the municipal library??"

He sat up. "The library? Oh, yes, fantastic! I can't think of a single thing I would rather do!" He looked at me thoughtfully, and then he looked around my tiny flat, noting the crammed bookcases against the walls. A small smile creased the lines that fanned out from the corners of his eyes.

His phone went off, a ringtone of 'Ding-dong the Witch is Dead'. The smile dropped off his face instantly, as he reached for his phone. "I'm sorry, darling, I must take this..." He stood and stalked out of the room, thumbing the phone on and bringing it to his ear.

I went automatically through the motions of making tea. I could hear the tense, low tone of his voice, but not his words. I took a deep breath. Well, here we are. He has a real life, and it's calling him now... I ran the water in the sink to give him a bit of privacy.

A few minutes later he was back with me, tucking his phone in his pocket. I turned from the sink and leant back against it.

"Now, where were we?" he asked almost jovially. I studied his face. What the hell? Two seconds ago he was having a terse conversation with someone, and now he's all sunshine and rainbows?? And then it hit me with the force of a slap. He's wearing his professional face, the one he wears laughing and joking with the fangirls, while he's wondering in the back of his head how soon he can get away. The little fuckweed! There goes my temper...

I fold my arms and and settle my back against the counter, scowling. "What the hell, Tom? Why did you do that?" Fuck, I can feel tears well up with my anger. Tears, goddamn tears.

"Do what?" He looks vaguely confused. When does Tom Hiddleston ever look vague??

"This," I gesture at his face, "..this charming thing is your...your fucking professional mask! It's fine if you have to go, Tom, I understand. But don't insult me! I deserve a bit more courtesy than this, don't you think? I'd like to know why I suddenly got demoted from girl that was good enough to sleep with, - no, excuse me - good enough to fuck, - to, to importuning fangirl? Because, if you'll recall, Mr. Hiddleston, you asked me to spend my day off with you! At least my dirty laundry didn't fuck me and then treat me like a stranger...!"

Tom sat abruptly, as if his strings had been cut. He ran both hands through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp. "Sorry, love, I didn't mean..." He cleared his throat roughly, and leaned over his knees, propping his elbows on them, hands dangling uselessly. He looked up at me, his shoulders hunched.

"That call was... my stepmother called. Dad has been taken to hospital with chest pains. He's in surgery..."

It took me the barest moment to shift gears. "Well, crap, Tom! Fuck, I'm so sorry!" I pushed myself in motion. "Let me get my laptop, we'll see when the next flight is. What airport do you need to fly into?" I started away to retrieve my laptop from my bedroom. His hand reached out and grasped mine, bringing me to a halt.

"Wait. There's more..." He drew a shaky breath. "My...she has asked me not to come, just yet." There was a world of hurt in his voice. "She said that I'm not needed, and that she'd prefer not to have to cope with me and my 'appalling circus'..." He swallowed hard. 

I gasped and dropped to my knees, sitting back on my heels in front of him. I took his hands in mine, looking into his eyes.

"Well shit, Tom... That's awful! What a horrid thing to say!" I squeezed his hands and waited, wondering what comes next.

He dropped his head and just sat, breathing deep. He looked so dejected. So rejected. Goddammit!

"I'll be back in a moment." I stood and picked up his tea, taking it to the counter, and dropping a couple spoonfuls of sugar in, along with a healthy slug of whiskey. He was still sitting there with his head hanging when I brought his tea back.

I knelt again and held the mug of hot sweet tea for him to take. He just stared at it as if he didn't know what it was. I picked up his hand and wrapped it around the warm mug. His fingertips were so cold. I didn't trust his grip, guiding the mug to his lips.

"Drink the tea, Tom." I commanded gently. His eyes flickered from some far distant thought and slowly focused on my face. "Tom, honey, drink the tea." As soon as the rim touched his lips I could see him coming back from wherever he'd been in his head. He blew across the top of it, and cautiously took a sip.

Tom's eyes flew open wide and he pulled the mug away to peer down into it.

"Sweet Earl Grey, with a healthy dose of whiskey, Tom. Drink it." I say firmly. "It'll put hair on your chest and lead in your pencil, as my old gran would say."

Tom smiled weakly, and took a good swallow of the whiskey laced tea. Colour began to creep back into his face, and in a moment he was back with me. Another few swallows, and he handed the empty mug back to me.

"Thank you, darling. I needed that." I set the mug aside and chewed my lip indecisively. God, first his stepmother called with bad news and was awful to him, and then I'd lost my temper at him, and I was awful to him. Fuck, I feel guilty for that. I stood and stepped back to give him some space, but his hand grasped mine and tugged a little.

"I could do with a hug...?" I nodded. He pulled me to straddle his lap, and pulled me down against his chest, tucking my head into his neck, and wrapped his long arms around me. I can do 'teddy bear' duty, no problem. My arms wound around his shoulders and stroked the back of his neck. We sat that way for long minutes.

Taking a deep breath, I sat up on his knees. His hands fell to my waist, and he looked at me questioningly. "Tom...I don't know what your relationship with your stepmother is, although I could guess from that." I gestured at his phone and sent him a sympathetic look. "I hope you don't mind if I say that... I'm appalled at what she said to you, and not a little pissed off. Honestly, what a thing to do! And I'm really... sorry I jumped on you. I seriously misjudged... Well, I'm sorry." I took another deep breath, and blinked back tears again. "I'm all done making assumptions, I promise. Do you...do you want to go see your dad? Because if you do, you can't let that wretched woman stop you visiting, right?"

"Yeah, of course I want to see him. But Felicia..." Tom glanced at me apologetically. "We...don't get on well, you see."

"No, really?" I deadpanned. Tom let out a small chuckle.

"The thing is, I'm afraid she might not be above giving my dad grief about it if I ignore her wishes."

I wrinked my nose. "One of those, is she? I'm sorry. Look... Whatever you decide to do, it won't hurt to check the flights, will it?" I climbed off his lap and went to fetch my laptop, bringing it back to the table. I went to sit next to him, but he pulled me into his knee again, his chin on my shoulder.

"Now, what airport?" I brought up the BA airline website.

"Edinburgh."

I clicked through the schedule. "Well, you've got time to decide. The last flight today goes in 15 minutes..." I checked the schedule for tomorrow morning. "First flight out is at 8:03 am. Do you want me to book it, or...? I waited, fingers poised over the keyboard.

Tom rubbed his chin in thought, the stubble there rasping slightly, his eyes roaming over the room. A moment, and he nodded decisively. "Right. We'll go."

"Ok. Wait, what? We? Tom..."

"Please will you come with me? I've a notion that she won't be so horrible if there are witnesses... Anyway, you said that you've the week off, and all your laundry is done! Come to Scotland and stop me murdering my stepmother? Please? Bring your cameras, it's very picturesque..."

I hesitate. "Tom, I don't... I can't really afford to..." I began, embarrassed.

"Darling, I invited you, of course I'm paying expenses! I know I'm asking a lot of you, but..." His shoulders dropped. "I'm sorry. It's too much, isn't it? You barely know me, and..."

I interrupted him, putting myself fingertips over his mouth, thinking. Well, jumping blindly, anyway. As per usual. Someday my impulsiveness is going to get me in trouble.

"Alright, Tom. I'll go. But...you've already seen my temper, and I can't guarantee that I won't give your stepmother the ticking off she deserves. She's pissed me off, that woman! Are you sure...?"

Tom hugged me fiercely, squeezing me tight. "I'll sell tickets!" he laughed into my neck. "Right, let's get booked!" He turned to my laptop. That was...mercurial. 

We sorted the flight, with an open ended return, booked a rental car, and booked a hotel. Thank god he wanted a hotel. If I had to spend a night under the roof of a woman who could be so deliberately cruel... 

"Don't you have people you should call to let them know you'll be away? A publicist or manager or somebody? I don't want to be accused of kidnapping you!"

"Right. Yes. I need to call Luke..."

"Ok, I'll leave you to it." I got up and escaped, no...sauntered casually, to the bathroom. Leaning on the sink, I looked up into the mirror, wondering how on earth I'd got from falling on the poor man at a Red Carpet event, through some of the best sex of my life, to agreeing to run off to Scotland with the man. 'Da fuck, girl? I shook my head. Calm down, take a breath...ok, eight breaths...

I returned to the kitchen to find Tom filling the kettle. I went and stood behind him, circling my arms around him. "So, still want to go to the library? We've still got most of the afternoon."

Tom turned the water off, and turned around in my arms. "Honestly? No. I'd much rather stay in. With you." He cupped my cheek, and looked into my eyes. Yeah. The man is in need of a little comfort and distraction... I can do that.

I moved my hands up his chest and leaned up on my tiptoes, reaching for a kiss. Tom bent and kissed me sweetly. My hand crept up to the back of his neck, toying with his short hair, there. Tom broke the kiss and leaned away, searching my face. Smiling, I turned and pulled him along to my bedroom.


End file.
